Sandy Hello
by jennii.b
Summary: Nim's mother was precious to more than just her dad. When a chance meeting brings her face-to-face with her mother's best friend, Nim and Jack both soak up the other woman's aura & the tales she remembers to the young girl about the woman she barely new. (One-shot)


The man in front of her stopped, poking at the golden haired girl in native casual-khakis well past 'faded' and a tank top. There was a long sleeved shirt tied around the waist of both.

Amilyn couldn't get out of the doctor's office quickly enough. She hated the clinical smell-the alcohol and ammonia that no cheerful paint could hide. This paint was trying hard to cover the general shabbiness of the building. Amilyn thought that perhaps the layered paints were the main support of the building.

Still, the staff was efficient and friendly, the doctors competent and the equipment shining with care. Everything appeared to be carefully sanitized and medical waste was marked appropriately.

Lee was fussing, muttering under his breath and rubbing at his thigh where the immunization still stung. He was too young to grin and bear it. Too advanced for his age to be pacified by a purple sucker. He scowled up at her. It was always the mother's fault.

"I don't want to hear it-I got two," she told him, arching her brow.

His eyebrows shot skyward, disappearing under the heavy fall of his sun-streaked hair. "Size-wise you should have gotten three. You outweigh me by a hundred pounds!"

"Now that's just mean," the man ahead of them at the window told him with fun in his voice. "At least she hides the weight well."

And where she was hiding it was a mystery. The waves and curls looping around the face were the most weighty thing about her. Brief navy shorts highlighted toned legs. Lots of leg. Shapely leg. Good thighs, soft and long and lean. Good knees, dimpled and smooth where they ought to be. Good calves, tight and muscular. Good ankles, narrow and satiny. He couldn't help it he was a leg man.

The rest of the body wasn't bad, either, though, he thought as he let his gaze travel from the little boy behind his own daughter to the woman's face. The halter top was gauzy, breezy, with its bright artistic swirls. There wasn't a whole lot of extra flesh on the strong shoulders or tanned arms. His eyes narrowed when he met the eyes. The grin-there was something about the grin.

"I'll be damned," the woman breathed. She cocked her head and extended a graceful hand. The gesture rocked him. Reminded him. "Lee, may I introduce the renowned Dr. Jack Rusoe. And Nim, I presume."

She bit her lip as his daughter looked up at her. He saw the sheen of tears, the tremble in the smile.

"My, how you've grown," she whispered through it.

He shook her hand, his own not quite steady. "It's been a very long time," he told her. He took a deep breath. "Nim, this is Amilyn DeProctor," he told her. He brought his hand to Nim's shoulder.

"We've met before?" Nim asked, offering her own hand.

Amilyn nodded. "Several times. The last time you wouldn't remember it and the times before you were probably too young. So this is where you've been hiding?" she smiled.

Jack remembered the last time. She'd sat on his other side at his wife's memorial service and cried quiet tears as he'd held onto the child beside him. She'd come in only that morning, from the arctic if he remembered correctly-or perhaps Siberia. Somewhere cold. She'd been pale-too pale-and he had thought of the comments his wife would have made to her. He hadn't been able to make them. He'd still centered on the denial. He nodded at the memory. When they'd spoken on the phone-when he'd been able to speak again after telling her about the accident-she'd asked about rescue plans, search parties and the like. And he'd had to tell her that rationally those things had ended. That she was presumed to be gone.

Nim was shaking her head, smiling politely. "We live on a different island. We come for shots once a year."

Lee growled. "I hate shots."

Nim shrugged. "You get used to them. I don't have to have any for a while. Dad got two extra-he had to get an antibiotic and a tetanus shot." Amilyn and Lee made appropriate and identical 'eww' faces.

Jack held out his left hand. A neat bandage covered the inside of his wrist. "I tangled with some rusty wire."

The window clerk called his attention back to the business at hand and he took out his wallet to hand over insurance and credit cards. At her turn Amilyn asked after the currency used on the island and pulled the correct bills from the selection in her wallet. In exchange she was given a bottled prescription.

"There are your vitamins. Make sure you're taking it easy. You can't be too careful," the nurse told her from behind the receptionist.

"Don't I know it," Amilyn smiled in return, the paperwork she received going into a folder in her massive shoulder bag.

Jack and Nim were waiting when they turned. Nim's face was more open, more seeking now. They'd had a whispered conversation about who this stranger was-a friend of her mothers, from a long time ago. A treat.

"Do you want to get a bite to eat? A coffee?" he offered. He was reluctant to let this reminder of the past slip away too quickly. It was unusual for him.

Lee rolled his eyes.

Amilyn smiled. "Lee's ready to move around. I'd hate to coop him up in a restaurant right now after sitting and waiting in here for so long. Do you want to maybe meet up in a bit?"

"We're going to the market," Lee announced proudly. "Mom's going to learn some local language. She's good at it."

Jack nodded. "Once upon a time she was even faster than I. We've actually a few things to pick up as well. Shall we?" His eyebrows lifted in question. He'd not beg, but he wanted to.

She nodded, relieved. Anyone watching would see a family - - two parents, two children. Not a single woman with a small boy. And she would soak in the essence of this man who had been adored by her best friend. When she spoke to Emily in her dreams she could tell her about her beautiful daughter and how well she looked and how tall.

It was later, much later, when they sat in the cafe of the English hotel. Amilyn had taken a room there, so Lee and Nim were allowed to go splash in the pool. Jack welcomed the shade of the always-damp stucco in the arched patio after the afternoon spent in the sun-drenched, dusty marketplace.

"There's a lot of Emily in her," Amilyn told him, picking up her juice mix. He was drinking the strong, black native coffee. It suited him, the heavy white mug full of fragrant brew. He looked rugged, tanned and wearing a day or more's stubble on his squarish jaw. "She looks like you," Amilyn observed.

Jack shook his head. "She looks like her mother."

Amilyn rolled her eyes. "No, she doesn't. I think she's like to Emily. There are expressions, glimpses of her around the eyes. But if you drew her structure it would be from your side of the family."

He'd forgotten who he was arguing with. A grunt was his surrender. "What brings you out here?" he asked. There was no ring on her finger. No cheater's band. No mention of a dad in all the chatter that had come from the dark child once he'd grown used to their company. The little boy's hair was dark brown, straight as rain, and shiny smooth. Brown eyes sparkled under the questing brows.

Now she shrugged, looked away. Her smile was, perhaps, overbright when she looked back at him. "Warm water, blue skies, sun. What brings all of us to the tropics?"

"Still working?" he asked. "I believe this is the longest I've ever seen you go without a camera." He laughed to himself. "I used to be surprised at the color of your eyes when you'd lower one of your thousands. They always seemed unreal, unexpected. When people look at you they expected to see a lens, not all that color."

She laughed at herself. "I still work. I'm just more careful with it. Choosier." He nodded. A slave to it she had been on the few occasions they'd gone out as part of the same team. "I've been doing more underwater, more panoramic landscapes-horizons and sunsets and distant misty mountains that appeal to my fancy."

"Publishing?" he asked.

She nodded, watching the children deep in discussion. Suddenly they were running toward them.

"Mom! Can I show Nim the picture the doctor took?"

"Sure, baby," she said. She snuck a glance at the man opposite as she reached into her now-loaded bag. Groceries were upstairs, to be hauled out to the boat tomorrow. Some things you didn't leave in your room, though.

She opened a folder and leaned back to show pertinent parts to his daughter, who hovered beside her. Jack couldn't tell what it was-the images hidden from his view.

"Do you know what you're looking at?" Amilyn began with a smile. Lee hit his forehead.

"Not that one! Nobody cares about that one but you! Show her the one of your jaw!"

Amilyn frowned then, closing the folder as she tried-without effect-to smooth the creases she knew had formed on her brow. "My copy won't be ready until tomorrow, little one," she told him. Again he sighed, this four-year-old thirty-year-old. He acted like an exasperated father sometimes.

"I want to show her the one before the plate, when it's all in pieces."

"Jesus Christ!" Jack exclaimed, leaning forward. Amilyn jumped. Other diners turned to stare.

"It's okay..." Nim said, watching the face of her mother's best friend. "I'll be careful. He just didn't want me to-"

"She was gonna do a somersault on the stair railing," Lee explained, his eyes wide as he watched the expressions on the adults faces. Jack was breathing deeply, trying to keep from snatching the photos and seeing for himself. Option B was to yank her up and shake her until she told him what the hell had happened. Since her face was miserable he chose option three-clamping down on the chair's armrest until the explanation was given.

"Oh, honey, you shouldn't do that if you don't know how far away the steps are."

"That's what I told her!" Lee smiled again, all sunshine now that he'd been proven right. "Otherwise you could hit your head and hurt yourself. Mom had to have surgery after she fell on the stairs by the pool. Although it is pretty cool that she can set off metal detectors with her head."

Amilyn smiled, although she was still pale to Jack's thinking. "Go play," she told the soaking wet child. "Nim doesn't want to see those pictures."

Nim took his hand and tugged. She was very good at taking hints.

Jack lifted his eyebrows. Then, calmly, his cup of coffee. "Your child has a fear of stairs?"

She shook her head. "I have a tendency to lead with my face. He was only trying to prove a point, I think."

"So we just let it drop?" he asked.

She lifted her brows, her expression one of complete innocence. Her eyes were determined, though. "Let what drop?"

The next time the kids resurfaced they'd worked out a plan. "Nim's never been on a yacht," Lee told her.

"Okay."

"Can we cook on the beach by the boat, then?" Lee asked. "I'm sooo hungry. And we could build a big fire if nobody's around. And stay up _all_ night!"

Amilyn laughed. "You and I can do that, certainly. But Nim and her daddy may have other plans."

Nim looked at her father. "Lee said that they have to go tomorrow night, that they aren't staying here long. They could drop me off at home if you want," she pleaded. "I'd be okay by myself. I could even take the dingy with me and they wouldn't have to come into the lagoon."

He saw her heart in her eyes. Eyes he found it hard to say no to. They'd slept on the boat many a time. There wasn't anything doing at home that couldn't wait another twenty four hours. "We should teach them how to make a Mahi the real way," he told her.

"Yes!" Nim called, raising her arm for a high five.

"I don't eat Mahi," Lee told her. "I don't even know what a Mahi is."

"It's not a vegetable," Amilyn reassured him. "You've had it before and loved it."

"Do we have some now?"

Amilyn shook her head, mouthing the word 'no' and said aloud, "We'll pick some up on our way back through the market."

"We'll take care of dinner if you can provide the picnic spot," Jack offered.

"We're at the Cape Mei dock," Amilyn told him. "Nim, would you like to come up and change your shirt at least before we leave?" she asked the little girl. Nim wrung out her towel and shook it out.

"Nah. I'll dry."

Jack stood, gesturing for the check. "I'll see you in about an hour, then. I'll build the bonfire when I get there."

"Yes, firemaster," she intoned. An old joke that she'd only just remembered - - his absolute conviction that no one else could build up a fire or grill out as well as himself. It had driven his wife to distraction, a habit she'd joked about and complained about and adored.

Amilyn and Lee went upstairs to gather their things and change his clothes. Nim and Jack went shopping.

It was late that night when the bonfire began to fade. Tourism was hit and miss in the islands. There were times - - odd times to Gerald's way of thinking - - that the island teemed with foreigners. Now, even though the weather was fantastic and looked to be gentle for weeks to come, there was no one. He was grateful for it. The adults sat between the dying fire and the crash of the incoming surf. Nim and Lee had gone adventuring. They laughed and yelled and played in the surf. Amilyn had cautioned Lee not to go farther than his knees into the water and they soon gave that up for racing around the beach, gathering treasures.

Amilyn laughed. No matter how many oddities Lee found, he always wanted one more. Soon she'd amassed a pile of driftwood, sand dollars, smooth, round rocks, and other gifts.

"Look! I found a folla-me!" she heard him yell from farther down. Both adults tilted their head to see.

Nim went running to him.

"A what?" Gerald asked. His daughter was having a similar conversation down the beach.

"Let's go ask my dad," they heard her challenge the younger child.

"Wait," Amilyn told him. "It'll be a Strombid."

"What did he call it?" Jack asked.

The kids kicked up sand as they ran, Nim holding the little boy's hand. Each held a spiraling shell in one hand.

"It's a folla-me!" Lee beamed at his mother, holding out his shell. Amilyn held out her hand for the other as well, then put them close together, so that the openings almost met. She tilted her head toward the space and her eyes drifting closed.

Smiling she nodded, then offered the shells to Jack, who held them over his head so that the firelight caught their differences.

"It's a follow me," she agreed in the near dark. "Where did you find them?"

Lee pointed, then ran off.

"I don't think so, Miss Amilyn," Nim told her, squatting in front of the adults.

"Listen," Amilyn whispered. She retrieved the shells from Jack. "This one looks like _Pleuroploca gigantea_; that one I'm not sure about. It's in the conche family for certain."

"Looks like _Strombus gigas_," Jack told her softly. He was too intrigued to care a whole lot about factual details. This whole thing had Amilyn DeProctor written all over it.

"It doesn't matter. They're follow-me's because of what they say. Be real still, real quiet."

Amilyn held the shells again, carefully judging the distance, then held them nearer the little girl's face.

"Close your eyes. It's a soft voice. Maybe a woman's? Definitely the voice of the sea. But freer, too, than just the sea."

Nim's face lit up. She gently took the shells and listened more closely.

"Can you hear the sea and the sky weaving together? It's the sound of rain on sand. And clouds slipping over the horizon."

Jack watched her face. It was magical with the red glow of the fire lighting the fine profile.

"Listen, Dad!" Nim whispered excitedly. "You can hear it! It's not just the ocean, like when you put one shell to your ear!"

"Of course not. They're calling to each other, like the east and the west and the sun and the moon."

Jack listened, laughed. He knew the scientific explanation for hearing rhythmic waves when you cupped an object over your ear. So did the woman beside him. He'd heard her explain the physicality and practicalities of the occurrence many a time. Still, he listened and he heard what she did.

Nim took the shells back, put one on each side of her head, fitted close to her ears.

Amilyn was already shaking her head, biting back a knowing grin. "Won't work. They can't sing to each other if you crowd them out with all the thoughts in your head. It's something you hear with your heart. Science can't explain it."

"How do you know about it?" Nim asked, kneeling in front of the woman her mother had loved.

"They told me. It's an old story."

"I've never heard it," Nim complained.

Amilyn shrugged. "Are you going to think like a scientist or are you going to let your heart take you?" she asked seriously.

Nim's eyes were huge. The reflection of the fire danced in them. "Can I be both?"

"Maybe," Amilyn told her. "I hope so. Your mom was. She was the best at it. I try to be like her. She's the one who taught me that even when all the data adds up, when you run the numbers and run the numbers and run the numbers that you still have to weigh in the cosmos and fate and all the little actions that make all your hard work crumble. You have to be completely open to all the possibilities - - even the improbable."

Nim nodded. "I can do that."

"Okay." She pulled her knees up, pointed out at the sea. The moon had just begun to rise. Stars began to dot the higher points in the sky. "Look," she told Nim. "Watch the moon."

It was almost full. Amilyn put her hands on the girl's shoulders, leaning over her.

"A long, long way away is a shore. And the same water touches every shore. And the same moon touches all the water.

"So now you listen. When we listen we can hear all the things the water does. We can see all the things the clouds share. And sometimes those things make us smile. Sometimes they make us sad. And sometimes the things we see, the things that the clouds and the waves and the lights in the sky live through make us afraid. And sometimes they make us brave."

Amilyn settled back down. Nim leaned back to settle in the woman's lap and she instinctively reached out to encircle her as she would her own child. The two shared a profile, Amilyn's chin resting on Nim's shoulder as Nim leaned back against Amilyn.

"On the edge of one of the oceans is a cove. The cove is quiet and deep and safe. There's a little narrow beach and an old abandoned shack where nobody comes anymore. It's totally surrounded by a steep stone wall. And at the top of the stone wall is the big house, with its orchards and gardens and swimming pools.

"A sparrow lived there once, near that inlet on that island in a northern sea. She loved it there and was happy to call it home. Of course, she'd never been very far-it was the only home she knew. Her feathers kept her warm and dry and she thought that she knew where she belonged.

"She built her nest in a tree at the edge of the cliff, where she could look down and see the beautiful beach and the happy way life was there. She laid her eggs and tended them and was at peace. Other animals were drawn to the cove as well. Beautiful mammals, much bigger and more important than the little sparrow. But she was content to admire them and love them. The whales loved her back and often she would fly out just a small ways and listen to their song. At night they were silent, listening to her song as she brought the sun down to set. They would visit the cove and listen to the sparrow and then continue their journey alone.

"One day clouds appeared behind the cliff. Dark-bottomed clouds that meant a storm was coming. The sparrow was frightened and looked all day over her shoulder, wondering what would happen. She forgot to sing and her nestlings were sad. The whales came and went and she didn't fly out to greet them. After a whole day had passed a whale came to find her.

"The sparrow was tiny and had lived her whole life alone, as do all of her kind. Sparrows aren't like swallows or finches or other birds that like to cluster. Each one likes its own place, even when it has no chicks to hatch out. A sparrow will build a nest anywhere it calls home. And it always finds its way back, rebuilding the same nest year after year. If her tree gets cut down she may not find another she likes and may never settle again.

"The whale didn't understand that link with the earth. The whole world is her home, her whole life a constant journey, first north, then south, then back again. It's a good way-her only way. If she is kept in one place too long her body forgets how to be wild and her song isn't as sweet.

"When the whale called to the sparrow she cried out her fear to her friend.

"'Come with me,' the whale called. 'I see those clouds all the time and they don't bother me. Follow us and you'll be safe.'"

"But the sparrow couldn't. She was of the sky, of the earth. She knew that at sea she must get tired and then drown.

"'Maybe I can wait,'" the sparrow said.

"So she did. She waited, watching her clutch grow and fly away. The next season she came back, lay her eggs, and waited for the whales to come sing to her.

"'Follow me,' the whale asked again.

"'Who will feed my children?' the sparrow asked her. 'They are too young to leave the safety of the nest. They'll be afraid if things change,' she told her friend. But her heart was heavy and her voice had changed. The whale heard the difference in the song and cried tears into the ocean as she swan away.

"The storm was still dark in the sky, just a bit nearer than it had ever been before when they found each other again. The sparrow had flown down to sit among the rocks. The whale song was full that day. They leapt into the air, twisting and spouting and praising the maker. She watched, her heart in her throat. She knew that they would leave again and she wanted badly to go with them. She was afraid and knew it. Still...the way her life had always been kept her where she was. And she went home to her nest. She only had one hatchling that year. The wind blew and the storm increased and her child was afraid as well.

"The whale called to the sparrow, but she couldn't answer. So the whale left a message of her love and dove deep into the ocean to escape the storm.

"It rained all night and into the next day and the day after that. When the storm passed on the cove was empty, destroyed.

"The sparrow's nest would never be made right and her child huddled next to her and she knew that somehow she'd not made the right decision. There was nothing left. Nothing to hold them there. The bush where they'd made their home had broken and fallen away. Their shattered home lay in pieces on the grey sand and they huddled together, glad to be alive but too afraid to move. The storm's fury had damaged the sparrow and she couldn't fly away, couldn't rebuild, couldn't move.

"In the distance the chick watched the shape of the whales approaching again. When the whale called to them again the sparrow couldn't answer. She called and called, and then, as darkness fell, she had to leave.

"In the morning the light was grey, as if the clouds still covered the sun. And the sparrow heard the whale's voice still. Hurt and frightened she followed the sound as best she could, pulling herself slowly at first, then going faster and faster.

"The land was no longer safe for them. Their roots were gone, forever gone, and she had no one left to cling to. So she took her child and called weakly for help.

"'Follow me,' the whale called. 'Follow me,' the whale always called before she disappeared.

"For the sparrow the thought was despair. Her feathers were damaged. She would never soar again. But perhaps if she tried hard enough? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and, even though she cried, she dove into the water of the sea.

"'Follow me,' the whale had told her.

"And she found that she could. Something in her had changed. It would never be the same, never be the way she expected, but the sparrow could be strong again. She could take care of her child. It would be new and different but she would adapt. They both would.

"And the whale came to them and danced for them. And the sparrow was amazed.

"'Of course,' said the whale, laughing at her timid little friend. 'Did you not know that I would be with you? Did you not know that I can always hear your song? Be free now, and be happy. I'll show you how.'"

Amilyn stopped, the tears that had burned her eyes and thickened her throat stopping her words.

Jack reached over, brushing the back of her hand with his knuckles.

"Are they still together?" his daughter asked.

"They'll always be together," Amilyn told her, rocking her and letting a laugh escape. "They'll always know, no matter where they are, that they are nearby, each watching over the other."

"Did the sparrow learn to fly again?"

"She did," Amilyn promised her. "She learned to fly again. The whale helped her."

Lee had wandered far down the beach and they could hear him, as they rested quietly, talking idly to himself and to the denizens of the night beach.

Amilyn swallowed her tears and sighed a sniffly breath.

Nim stayed where she was, lost in the moment's magic and possibility.

After a long time Gerald moved, kindling the fire again.

"The magic is in the shells," Amilyn whispered. "Once a storm starts it never really stops. It simply moves, changes shape, and becomes something different. But the whale knew the sky and the sea-she'd been to them before. And she kept her friend safe. And you know she's been there, know that the sparrow's seen the dark clouds on the horizon and that the whale's helped them escape the storm, when you find the two shells lying together. When you pick them up they come together. And you can hear her whisper, 'Follow me.'"

Nim turned in the woman's arms and grinned her bright, sunny grin. Child's hands came up to touch the tears on the woman's face. Amilyn's voice was strong again, certain and sure.

"Do you believe?" the younger whispered.

"With my whole heart, little one."

"Lim, stop telling myths and call your son back for dessert," Gerald called to them.

"What did you call her?" Nim asked.

Gerald blushed, ducked his head, as they stood and brushed the sand from their clothes.

"I'm sorry. I forgot and..."

"It's okay," Amilyn told him. She put a laugh in her voice. "It's been a long time since I was Lim to anyone."

"That sounds like my name!" Nim laughed.

Gerald nodded. Amilyn answered. "Your mother made up names for everyone. She called your father Tug a lot. Sometimes."

"Tug?" Nim laughed.

Gerald laughed, too. "Only on the rare occasion," he told his daughter. "And I never answered to it."

"I answer to Lim," Amilyn confided to the daughter of the world. She jogged off to catch up her son where he was studying the swirling white patterns the surf made on the sand. Bringing him up over her head she twirled with him.

He laughed and screamed, happy to be part of the abandon. She'd been so careful on the boat not to pull anything or twist anything or jar the one growing inside her. But she felt safe here, happy and secure.

So they ate sticky s'mores on the beach, then waded in to wash their hands and faces and kick and play in the water.

"When do you have to go back?" Jack asked Amilyn after she'd covered her sleeping child with a light blanket. The boy's face was sweet and golden in the dying light of the fire. Nem was curled drowsily against his side, just enjoying the night and the strength and certainty of her father's form.

"I don't. I'm not..."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "You're not working on a project right now?"

Amilyn shook her head. "I'm trying out the freelance thing. I don't need the money-"

"Or the husband?" He glanced at Lee. Then he gestured at her hand. "No ring."

"Or the husband." Amilyn's voice held her disdain. "No husband."

"That makes for a hard life."

Amilyn shook her head. "You weren't there. You wouldn't understand. You'd still be married to Emily if she were still al-"  
He shook his head sharply. His face was set. Amilyn understood. She had shared his grief and his despair and his need to disbelieve.

Silence rang too loudly for a long moment. Finally he broke it.

"I took my ring off several years ago. It's in my jewelry box. Her jewelry box. The one she found in Singapore? With the cranes or whatever on it?"

"Herons," Amilyn corrected automatically. "I have the cranes. She bought you the herons."  
"There's a story about them, too. Isn't there?"

The woman beside him nodded. "There's always a story."

"But you won't tell me yours?"

She smiled, but he could easily see that it was forced. He watched her move away, watched her carefully lift herself from the sand and brush at the backs of her legs. "I've already told you all that I'm going to, Jack. No more stories tonight. No myths, no truths, no fantasies."  
Nim moved restlessly beside him. "Alex could write your stories," she murmured. "They're good stories. Beautiful stories."

"Lim..." Jack sighed, reaching up to her with his free hand. "I don't know what to say. How to say what obviously needs to be said."

She pressed her fingertips to his lips. "The trick behind successful telling is to know when to speak and when not to."

He nodded, taking her wrist and tugging her down next to him. She relented, snuggling in between him and the child nearer the fire pit.

When Nim sighed and yawned again Jack sent her for blankets.

"Are you up for a night on the beach?" he asked the grown woman. "Or do you want to go back to the boat?"

Amilyn shrugged. "If you can hack it I can hack it."

He laughed aloud. "That's the Lim we all know and love." His daughter came back fully armed and he spent a few minutes rearranging the blanket from their picnic and spreading the others over her thin body.

"She grows up so fast," he murmured when the girl's breathing had evened out. His hand ran over her golden hair. "For ages it seems like nothing changes between us, then all of a sudden she's something new and different. The same, but different."

"I think they're all like that," Amilyn told him. "Maybe we are, too, but we stop noticing it so much one we hit a certain age."

"Alex thinks I should let her take her back to the mainland for a while."

"I keep hearing about this Alexandra..."

Jack shrugged. "It's quite the story as well. Do you read the Alex Rover stories?"

"Religiously. I pre-buy them whenever I can. And read them aloud to Lee. Only I get caught up and keep reading after he's asleep so I have to reread them to him. Our average is three days. During which absolutely nothing else gets done. If one of them ever gets released during a busy season I'm sunk."

Jack laughed. "She'll be glad to hear that. I'm living with the real Alex Rover. Alexandra Rover. The writer."

"Hmm. Hmph."

Jack's hand came up to rub Amilyn's bare arm. "What does that mean?" he asked cautiously.

"Nothing. I'm happy for you. Happy to know you didn't let what happen...I mean, I know you kind of dropped out...I just...So that's why you took off your ring?"

"What? No! Amilyn, _no_. That's not what I meant." He laughed, then he felt uncomfortable and got up to pace a couple of steps. "Look," he began as he squatted back down in front of her. "She showed up at the island. Nim invited her. Kind of. As a result of my own stupidity."

"It's okay, Jack. I really am happy for you. It was just a jolt. My memories are ten years old and I still have you slotted with Emily and it took me a second."

He shook his head. "There's been no one for me since Emily." His voice was soft and sad. He lay back on the blanket and pillowed his hands behind his head. Amilyn continued to sit and looked down into his face. "Alex is living with us, but purely platonically. She's a hermit. Her adventures were all virtual until she met Nim and then she came out here to rescue her. I was spending the night out on a reef and got caught in a monsoon...Nim can tell it better, or Alex. Suffice it to say that research got to be real hands-on."

"You like being in the field."

He nodded up at her in the near dark. "So do you. I guess your boat offers you both of the things you need - - being out and having a darkroom at your fingertips."

She smiled at him. He knew her well.

Had known her.

Now she needed the boat to stay out of sight. No more land-dwelling. No more mail or credit card trails or anything else. They lived on a cash basis and once a year she made a trip in to her lawyer's office to pick up any payment she was due.

She didn't realize her smile had faded again until his fingertips brushed her cheek. "You won't tell me?" he asked. "Not even so that I can stand for Emily with you?"

"That's low, Dr. Rusoe," she told him. "Even for you."

"Desperate times..." He patted the cloth covering the smooth sand. She settled down, holding her body carefully away from him. "Will you be warm enough?" his husky voice asked.

She nodded. "If I get cold I'll steal Lee's blanket."

Jack shifted and shrugged out of his shirt. He unrolled the cuffs and balled it up. "Feel free..." he offered as he turned to settle on his side with his hands tucked beneath his cheek. She nodded and accepted the offering, also turning and lying so that she faced him. The embers of the fire caught their skin and made their eyes shine.

"I live on an island that the natives and tourists avoid like the plague," he explained. "It was uninhabited, undiscovered when we got there. Nim was four and a half. I've built a good home, made my place there. And kept it secret so that I could lick my wounds in private. And now I have doubts. Nim's thirteen, Lim. _Thirteen_. When did we get so old? How did so much time pass? I carry out my research, publish my findings, and write a few articles. Enough to keep us supplied with the best technology and the things I can't grow or fabricate. Cotton and cloth and forks and nails and books. Alex has been with us nearly two years, but she's finishing up her newest book and then she plans to leave. Go back. She's agoraphobic. Won't even come into town for the day. And she's saying things about the things Nim's never done or experienced and she's right. But I wonder if she's really right or if she's just afraid to go back by herself."

Lim DeProctor had always been a good listener. She only blinked as Jack spoke softly.

"I think about it all the time now - - whether I should let Nim go for a while or keep her with me. A cruise line brought a batch of day-trippers to the island while I was battling mother nature and her shark-infested waters. Nim frightened them off with a series of tactics she picked up God only knows where. I've taught her to be afraid of other people. But one of the travelers got to her. A boy, she said. I can't tell you if he was younger or older or what. She doesn't know how to age people by looking because she never gets to be around them for long enough to see the pattern. She can tell you how old any of a dozen water fowl or turtle species are by looking, but people she's never had much experience with. But every once in a while she still talks about him. She should be learning to flirt and dance and skate board or whatever young people do now. Instead she's basically a research assistant with crappy pay. She's more stunted adult than child. And that's my fault."

Amilyn reached out her hand. "The world's a scary place," she told him. "You made the best decision you could. No one could fault you for needing to get away after Emily's accident. None of us. She left a big hole. And if you found a way to cope on your island than no one can fault you for that, either. Are you really considering letting this agoraphobic woman take your child to the United States by herself? Or are you thinking to go there, too?"

Jack shrugged. "Which one sounds worse to you?"

She laughed. "I'm asking so that I can offer to island-sit if you're going to be gone a while. I could use a place to dig my toes in the sand temporarily. I was planning to find some fishing village in Japan and rent dock space, but if you've got something more private and you're not going to be there..."

Jack shook his head and tightened his fingers around the hand she'd extended. "Come check it out tomorrow. Come or go, you're welcome in my house, Lim. Will you tell me why you can't go home to California? You used to have pretty nice ancestral digs there. Lots of sand, nice solid roof, a dock where you don't have to pay rent."

"It's still there. But I'm here for now."

"And that's it? We're back to letting the subject drop?"

"Uh-huh."

"Fine. You'll tell me eventually. You know you will."

She shifted, settling her shoulders into the sand. She arched a brow and smiled over her shoulder at him. "Don't bet on it, Dr. Rusoe. I've done some growing up in the past ten years, too. I can bluff with the best of 'em now."

He smiled and shook his head. "You just wait. Between me, Nim, and Alex we'll get the truth."

He watched her smile fade. "I'd just as soon leave the truth alone," she admitted.

"I can't protect you if I don't know what's out there," he told her. "You would have gone to Emily for anything once. And she always turned to you. How can you keep Nim and I out of whatever's going on?"

"Why does something have to be going on?"

His eyebrows shot up. "You broke your jaw on the pool steps so badly that you had to have it surgically repaired - - and with a plate if your son's impression was correct. You paid cash to an island doctor, someone most tourists never see. Most people would wait to see their own doctors at home. Which means that you're basically homeless. And he filled a prescription for vitamins - - something I've never ever seen a doctor do before and certainly not a native doctor. Your son doesn't mention a daddy, you - - who were once vocally convinced about the evils of bringing children into the world accidentally - - expect me to believe that even if you got knocked up he doesn't have a relationship with his father? You're too fair to keep something as precious as a child away from someone you care about enough to sleep with. Lots of things don't add up. Or add up to no good."

Amilyn let her head drop and her gaze swept over her angel child. Her hand came to over the one inside her.

Jack sighed behind her. "But I guess we'll drop it. Because you used to be family for us, Lim. And we love you. I'd love for Nim to get a chance to love you, too."

"I loved her, too, Jack. I miss her, too. So much..."

It seemed easy for her to turn into his arms and shed her tears against his chest. Jack accepted her and wrapped his arms around her and held her while they both cried. Seeing her was wonderful and painful at once. She was a part of his wife. Part of the spirit that had made Emily Emily was the Amilyn DeProctor waiting in the wings. If losing Emily had been hard for him he'd at least had Nim. Amilyn had had no one and now he felt guilty about abandoning her. Something he'd never once considered before. So he held and offered what strength and comfort he could until she'd cried herself to sleep.


End file.
